Riding a Cyclone

How many years? I'm not even sure It was late in the day, as the sun turned to rust I was holding his hand, and trembling with fear Kicking up dust with my Mary Jane shoes filled with concoctions of sugar and goo Looking at him for assurance and trust I remember our feet boarding the plank as if on the brink, of a life or death prank My Dad, (for the fourth time, a smile on his face) had offered a chance to back out with grace But I was determined, insistent and firm! How many times, had he taken a turn... with my brother in tow?....While I watched from below confined like a babe of the infantile row? Dad finally relented, to my mother's chagrin then took my hand,.......and my bravado began... Sticky the heat, and so were my hands, ...we waited our turn while a tummy would churn We boarded the Cyclone, a faceless contraption, that seemed quite familiar...the seaside attraction that brother had made on our living room floor with his Tinker Toy set, and the toys we adored A strange looking man with a raw sunburned nose and a head that seemed too small, like a small cabbage, posed escorted us on, into a red metal bucket, strapped us inside, like mice in his pocket! The sound of the metal, was skimming the track Winding up slowly, then full-on attack! I buried my face in the arm of my Dad.... Blinded by fear, never once looking back The Cyclone, I'm sure was fierce as could be I wanted to look, and was too blind to see Finally it stopped. We departed unharmed ! But never again... I was........NOT to be charmed I only remember my two shaky knees, barely walking the plank into my mother's arms ! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 5/21/14